


In Memoriam

by anonhermionegranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 17 year old me did not treat you right and 20 year old me is so sorry for that, F/M, I wrote this back in 2013 and only posted it on my ff so I decided to post it here too, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, don't let the title fool you, dramionelove Spring-Summer 2013 Fest, hinny as a side pairing, listen can i first apologize to astoria greengrass, ron/luna as a side pairing, this fic isn't sad at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonhermionegranger/pseuds/anonhermionegranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry throws an annual Commemoration Ball to honor the survivors and fallen warriors. Hermione attends every year, and she spends her time waiting to leave and staring after Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> A major thanks to my beta, C. Also, I edited it slightly after C returned it to me, so all mistakes found are mine. Also thanks to RZZMG for hosting this!
> 
> Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**May 2nd, 1998**

When does war end? Voldemort had fallen, yet chaos continued to surround them. Death Eaters were being rounded up, the injured were being treated, and the dead were being mourned.

And blood, blood everywhere. It coated the crumbling walls, still vibrating with the unmistakable thrum of Dark Magic, of Unforgivable Curses cast as either offensives or defenses. Blood seeped into the grounds, settling itself between the cracks in the stone corridors, tinting the grass and dirt a dark red. The dead were long ago moved into the Great Hall, where the echoing cries of agony and despair from family and friends resounded across the collapsing building.

Search teams continued to move throughout the castle, sifting through the rubble that was once Hogwarts in order to recover rogue Death Eaters and to search for the missing.

And Hermione was tired. She was so, _so_ tired. The sun was directly overhead, beating its rays onto Hogwarts. In the harsh, bright light, the aftermath of the battle seemed unreal. It was hard to imagine the only sources of light had been the whizzing spells that flew past, the fires that burned, the few torches that lined every Hogwarts hallway that hadn’t been torn out of their sockets, when the sun shone as bright as it did now. 

Hermione couldn’t stay in the Great Hall anymore; she couldn’t stand to hear the cries anymore, nor could she stand to see the never-ending rows of the dead. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin, Lavender, Snape. Their faces haunted her, flashing before her eyes every time she blinked. And though Hermione craved sleep, she knew it would be awhile before she would get some. She bones were weighed down, heavy and aching, yet she refused to stop and rest. If she did, she feared she’d never get up again. 

Hermione’s feet took her outside Hogwarts. She was looking for Harry; he and Hermione had left the Weasleys’ side about an hour ago to let them mourn for Fred properly as a family. Hermione had been distracted for a second by a loud cry, and when she turned back to Harry, he was gone.

Hermione was about to walk to the Quidditch pitch when she saw a figure sitting by the lake. Hermione reached the figure, passing groups of people that called out to her. Harry turned his head when she approached him, and he smiled warily. It dropped quickly, and Hermione sat down facing the lake with him.

They sat there in silence for a half hour, watching the small waves crash onto the shore. Her eyelids drooped, and Hermione stifled a yawn. She really needed to get back on her feet before she was lulled to sleep by the calming lake. Hermione was about to stand when Harry suddenly reached over and gripped her hand. Hermione started, eyes flying open wide and wand gripped tight, searching behind them for Death Eaters and wands turned at them. Realizing that there was no danger, Hermione turned angrily towards Harry, blood rushing in her ears and heart thumping painfully. When she saw that a ghost of a grin was gracing his lips at her reaction, Hermione’s anger dissipated almost immediately. She laughed weakly and smacked his arm with her free hand.

Harry attempted a real smile that looked more like a grimace and then dropped it, aging ten years again when he did so, and he nodded silently towards something off to his left. Hermione turned, but her view was blocked by a group of people. Once they moved, off to find more bodies or to arrange Ministry business, Hermione spotted a flash of blond. 

Malfoy and his mother were standing just outside Hogwarts, looking relieved that the war was over at last. Narcissa Malfoy was sobbing into her son’s chest, and Malfoy was holding her tightly. He towered over her, and it hit Hermione in that moment that Malfoy was all grown up, that they all were. 

As Harry and Hermione watched, McGonagall and three Aurors made their way towards them. A flash of apprehension crossed Malfoy’s face as he watched them approach. McGonagall faced the Malfoys and seemed to be explaining something to them. It was obvious by her pursed lips and narrowed eyes that she did not agree to whatever the Aurors were doing, but couldn’t stop them. Hermione watched as Malfoy nodded tersely, jaw clenched, before prying himself gently away from his mother’s hold and stepping towards the Aurors. She noted the way he held his arms in front of him, ready to be bound, and she thought he was almost challenging them. The Auror hesitated before binding him, and then they were moving, Narcissa Malfoy throwing herself after them only to be held back by McGonagall.

Hermione caught Harry’s eye and she knew what he was thinking: they had both been saved today by a Malfoy. Sighing, Hermione glanced back at the lake before returning to look at Harry once more. She nodded silently, squeezing his hand tightly, to his unspoken question. Yes, she thought, releasing his hand to stand up and go look under more rubble, they would both have to testify in the Malfoys’ defense. 

**May 2nd, 1999**

Hermione was attempting to physically sink into the wall. It was the First Commemoration Ball, an event held by the Ministry in an attempt to honor the fallen warriors and, of course, Harry Potter and all the other war heroes. Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. She didn’t want to be honored — not when George was still missing his other half, and Lupin and Tonks weren’t there to see Teddy’s first steps. 

In fact, she had just wanted to skip the whole thing altogether and stay at home, wards up and deadbolts locked, and cry herself to sleep to the memories of the ones lost. But she wasn’t able to. As one-third of the “Golden Trio”, it was expected for Hermione to be here. All war heroes were to be awarded Order of Merlins, after all.

Maybe she could sneak out after the awards were awarded. It probably wouldn’t be too hard, though reporters were crawling around. Hermione was used to evading the press. Throughout the year, reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ to _Witch Weekly_ followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione in an attempt to gather information on where they went while they were on the run. They badgered them, accosting them while they were shopping in Diagon Alley, following them around, and even attempting to break into their homes. 

It wasn’t until the three of them agreed to give one interview — to the _Quibbler_ , showing that they forgave Xenophilius Lovegood — that the press backed off a little. Stories continued to crop up about them, however ( _Granger Seen Buying Potion Ingredients for Dreamless Sleep — Nightmares Still?_ ), so that their every move was continually scrutinized by the public.

There was a commotion at the doors of the ballroom that brought Hermione out of her thoughts. She craned her head curiously to see what happened that caused everyone to gasp in various degrees of shock and anger. Draco Malfoy stepped into the room, dressed impeccably in a pair of fine robes.  
Hermione watched him from her corner as he walked confidently into the mass of sneering faces. Hermione was surprised he had shown up; she knew he was getting an invitation — Harry had made sure of it — but she was sure he would avoid being in a confined space filled with hundreds of people who wished him rotting alongside his father in Azkaban. 

The wizarding public had thought that Malfoy and his mother had been granted too much of a leniency. But as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and a surprising amount of Order members testified on their behalf, the Wizengamot couldn’t punish them as harshly. Narcissa Malfoy had managed to escape with only five years house arrest and no wand for seven, and Malfoy had been in Azkaban for only six months. He was also required to work in the Ministry for three years, volunteer at a war orphanage for two, and half of the Malfoy fortune was seized as well as all of the Manor’s Dark possessions. 

On the outside he looked just as arrogant as ever, but if Hermione looked closely, she could see it was all a front. She detected a small quivering of his hands, which he hid well by casually sliding both hands into his pockets. Hermione wondered who he was going to talk to in the hour before the awards started. No Slytherins were in attendance apart from him, and he had no friends of which she knew of. Though perhaps he’ll talk to his coworkers? They seemed to get along well with Malfoy — a year of working together would do that, Hermione supposed. 

Hermione was idly watching Malfoy’s trek towards a group of Ministry workers in his department when a freckled face popped up in front of her, blocking her view. 

“There you are, Hermione,” Ron said, “We were worried you bailed.”

“What? Oh no, sorry. I just needed a break.”

“Oh, well what are you standing in a corner for? Let’s get some fresh air. George is already out in the garden. Don’t think he’ll mind if we join him.” 

Ron’s statement instantly snapped her back to attention. Here she was, planning her escape from a ball meant to celebrate the lives so valiantly lost, the lives she so dearly loved. She was alive and healthy, trying to run away from the world even though she should’ve been embracing it, and Fred was still dead. 

“Okay,” Hermione said through a sudden lodge in her throat, “Let’s go.”

Ron moved and Hermione saw that Malfoy was awkwardly standing next to his coworkers, a drink in his hand, and having a conversation. His stance was too stiff and his grip on his glass was too tight, but otherwise, he appeared to be having a pleasant time. Her gaze lingered in his direction before she tore it away and followed Ron. “Right, let’s go.”

**May 2nd, 2000**

The Second Commemoration Ball brought more pain to Hermione than the first. Because, now that the war heroes had been properly recognized, it was more of a ball than an awards night. And try as she might, she was unable to miss out on all the dancing and socialization. 

Ginny had immediately latched herself to her, her unofficial job to make sure Hermione didn’t disappear again. So Hermione, knowing that it was what people wanted, and maybe — though she doubted they would have wanted her to do this specifically — Lupin and Tonks and Fred would have wanted her to stop dwelling on the past and to keep living, to remember their lives by continuing to have fun and moving on.

Hermione found herself in an awkward dance with Terry Boot, who had seemed so nervous when asking her to dance that she couldn’t say no. Her eyes wandered away from Terry and across the room. She told herself it was nobody she was searching for, but when she caught a flash of brilliant blond, her eyes latched themselves eagerly onto Malfoy. She had been unsure if he would show up again, but now that she saw him, she realized it was silly for her to think he’d not. He was a war hero, too, and deserved to be here just as much as anyone else in this room. 

The song ended, thankfully, and Terry offered to get her a drink. Hermione, feeling a bit suffocated, politely declined. He nodded and went off to find another dance partner. Hermione watched his weaving trek between the slow-dancing couples, and didn’t realize she was clenching the material of her robes until she felt eyes boring holes into her. She looked up, releasing her hands and smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric, and froze in shock. 

Across the room Malfoy was staring right at her. His eyes met hers, and she was surprised at the intensity in them. She couldn’t break their hold, her eyes wide in shock, so they both stood, an entire room between them, silently for a minute, two, three.

Then, Malfoy slowly nodded, slightly raising his glass up in toast. Hermione desperately wished she had allowed Terry to get her that drink so she wouldn’t feel like an idiot right now. She nodded back at him, and then whatever spell she had been under lifted, and she was able to move again. She turned away, releasing a shuddering breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, and went off to find Ginny. 

**May 2nd, 2001**

The Third Commemoration Ball found Hermione sitting at a table alone, sipping some wine and staring off into the distance. As was becoming her tradition, Hermione was gazing the room for Malfoy. Her eyes immediately zoned in on him dancing with a slightly older woman he worked with. The woman's smooth, blonde hair chased her as Malfoy spun her skillfully, eliciting a delightful peal of laughter from her. A tall brunette was subtly waiting her turn to dance with Malfoy, staring after the couple as they whizzed past, a lone curl twisting around her finger. Hermione scowled at the sight.

Tonight Malfoy had been especially popular. While he had been sneered at during the first ball and politely ignored by most in the second, he had managed to redeem himself considerably in time for the third ball. He had some friends, and though he was still a prat, many witches considered him to be devastatingly handsome and charming. Hermione herself couldn't see it, but if the line of women trailing after him was to go by, he had managed to worm his way into the hearts of Britain's most eligible and oh-so-very-willing witches.

Hermione refused to admit, even to herself, that her breath had caught and her heart had raced just a little bit faster at the sight of Malfoy in his black Muggle suit. But if she had to explain herself, she would only say that there was something Hermione found undeniably attractive about a man dressed impeccably in a fine suit. Muggle suits were a soft spot for Hermione, and after being surrounded by wizards in dress robes since she was fifteen, it was only natural that she would get worked up over Malfoy in a suit.

Images of Hermione dragging Malfoy's lips to hers by his tie, of her hands running through his perfectly styled hair again and again until it was perfectly imperfect, of his expensive suit lying in a heap of wrinkling clothes by her bed danced across her vision.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, and she shook her head to rid herself of those forbidden thoughts. This could not be happening to her; she refused to let Malfoy affect her like he did all those dozens of other witches.

It was time to leave, Hermione decided, before drowning the rest of her drink in a single gulp. She coughed slightly as she set the glass back down on the table with a low thud. It was late enough into the ball that it was acceptable for guests to start leaving, but still early enough that if Harry or Ron caught her leaving, she'd be in trouble.

She located Ron easily, his height coupled with his red hair facilitated Hermione's spotting of him. He was at the edge of the dance floor talking to a blonde-haired beauty in light lavender dress robes, nervously waving his hands around as he talked. With a start, Hermione realized that it was Luna he was talking to. Hermione couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. She would have to get details later.

Spotting Harry was easy as well because Hermione knew where to look. A quick scan of the dancing couples found Harry clutching Ginny close, whispering in her ear as they rocked slowly side to side to make up for Harry's lack of dancing skills. It would be at least another half hour before they noticed her gone so Hermione felt it was safe to leave the ball.

Hermione didn't see Malfoy make his way nervously towards the table she had been sitting in as she stood up, gathered her purse, and left. She didn't see him stop halfway across the dance floor, curse softly, and head over to the bar instead. She didn't feel his gaze linger on her exiting form as he tipped his firewhiskey down his throat, before being whisked away by another eligible witch.

**May 2nd, 2002**

The Fourth Commemoration Ball eerily reminded Hermione of Sixth Year. Hermione had agreed to a date, after much badgering on his part, with Terry Boot. He had been asking her out for months now, never giving up even with all the continued ‘no’s Hermione sent his way. She had finally agreed to one date, tired of Terry’s incessant asking and of her friends trying to fix her up.

She had also heard from Parvati Patil that even Malfoy had a date to the ball.

That was not, however, the deciding reason why Hermione finally said yes to Terry, or why she took extra time choosing a red dress that hugged her curves and flowed to the tops of her heels. She had finally caved under Ginny's pressure to help Hermione get ready, and that was why her hair was pinned up in a somewhat tamed manner and the hazel flecks in her eyes stood out against the makeup she had donned. It had nothing to do with trying to show Malfoy what he was missing by taking another girl as his date instead of Hermione. Not that Hermione wanted to his date to the ball.

Of course not.

Terry was nice enough, but the man did not understand the concept of personal space. He had been constantly trailing after her, never leaving her side unless it was to refill her drink. He had also insisted on dragging Hermione across the entire room, introducing her to Ravenclaws who still held childhood grudges against her.

But what annoyed Hermione the most was the way he hovered over her. He was constantly grabbing her arm to steer her to a new location and pushing at the small of her back slightly to keep her moving at the pace he wanted. When they stood to talk, she felt Terry's chest a mere inches behind her or his heavy arm draped across her shoulders or waist.

Currently, Hermione was hiding — er, happened to be standing — behind a leafy plant in a corner of the room, surveying the room for any signs of Terry Boot. She had claimed she needed to use the loo, and then proceeded to sneak behind a nearby plant when he left. At the same time, she was also looking out for Malfoy and his date, Astoria Greengrass, both of whom she had yet to see.

Deciding that this was much too like her disastrous date with McLaggen at Slughorn's Christmas party, she stepped out from behind the plant to find her "date", and walked right into a wall of flesh. Stumbling backwards, she held onto the outstretched arms to keep herself from falling.

"Alright there, Granger?"

Hermione froze at the sound of the voice. It was embarrassing enough, walking straight into someone, without the addition of it being _Malfoy_ who she walked into. She released his arms numbly and smoothed out her dress, sudden self-consciousness creeping in.

"Er, Malfoy. Sorry about that. I wasn't looking." Her hands moved without her permission to touch her curls. As the night went on, her hair became less and less tamed as her frustration with Terry increased. Unruly curls framed her face, and Hermione tucked them behind her ears.

Malfoy eyes roamed her figure before settling back on her curls. A corner of his lips twitched in amusement, and Hermione scowled at herself for noticing the slight movement.

"What were you doing behind the plant, Granger?" Malfoy smirked at her. "Are you trying to peep at people entering and exiting the bathroom? Hoping for a view, are you?"

Hermione turned red and sputtered indignantly, "W-what? N-no, Malfoy! Of course not!" She sniffed haughtily, nose in the air, before saying with her cheeks still red, "If you must _know_ , Malfoy, I was simply getting some fresh air."

Malfoy raised a perfect eyebrow. It was then that Hermione realized he was wearing another expensive Muggle suit. More heat crept into her cheeks at the memory of _those forbidden thoughts that she has not thought of multiple times each month since then._

"Fresh air, Granger?" He peered behind her at the small space between the wall and the plant where she had been standing in and gave her a look of disbelief.  
Hermione huffed. "Of course, Malfoy. Because, you see, plants take in the carbon dioxide that we breathe out, and convert it into oxygen. So, I was getting freshly made oxygen by standing behind the, er, plant."

Malfoy gave her another look, and Hermione wanted to drop her head in her hands. How unbelievably stupid of her. She hoped that he hadn't noticed that it was a _fake_ plant she had been behind, and if he had, she hoped he would be tactful enough not to mention it.

They stood in silence for a minute, and just as Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, Hermione's heart pounding loudly in anticipation, a woman's voice cut him off.

"Oh, there you are, Drakie!" Astoria slid her skinny arms through Malfoy's, claiming him as hers, and steadied a cold look at Hermione. "Hello, I'm Astoria, Draco's date."

Hermione slid her eyes from the claw-like grip Astoria Greengrass had on Malfoy to Malfoy himself. A look of regret passed across Malfoy's face before it was quickly replaced by a small smile aimed at Astoria, leaving Hermione to wonder if she had only imagined the regret. 

Hermione blinked and turned to address Astoria. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger."

Astoria smiled insolently at her. "Of course you are." She then arranged her thin body in a way that effectively blocked most of Hermione from Malfoy's view, and Hermione's mouth dropped at the clear disrespect aimed towards her. She huffed as Astoria said in a low, sultry voice meant for the bedroom, "Now, Draco, how about a dance? I'll be waiting." She winked lavishly before throwing a fast _Goodbye, Granger_ behind her as she walked away, emphasizing the curve of her hips by moving them in an exaggerated way.

Hermione stared after her in disbelief.

"Close your mouth, Granger," Malfoy said, amusement evident in his tone. "It's unbecoming."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, glaring at him. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy." It didn't escape her notice, however, that Malfoy wasn't paying any attention to the show Astoria was putting on, but was instead smirking at her annoyed expression.

"Clever."

"Don't you have somewhere you have to be?" Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, glaring.

Malfoy's eyes lingered on her chest before meeting hers, and Hermione couldn't ignore her heart racing faster.

"Don't you have a date to avoid?" he drawled.

Hermione harrumphed. "I am not _avoiding_ Terry Boot," she said hotly.

Malfoy raised a single eyebrow. "Of course you're not, Granger."

Hermione sniffed, rearranging her small clutch under her arm. "I'm going home, Malfoy, if you'll please."

Malfoy started at her haughty expression and silently moved to the side, sweeping his arms in invitation. "Goodnight, Granger."

He stared after her as she wove her way across the mass of people, sighing when she disappeared into the warm May night.

**May 2nd, 2003**

Hermione had settled into a routine when it came to the Commemoration Balls in the five years the Ministry hosted them. She would arrive with Harry, Ginny, and Ron and would spend the first hour talking to them. The next half hour would be spent dancing a few dances, before avoiding the dance floor altogether. Hermione would then work her way talking to Ministry officials and Order members and everybody else before settling into an empty table or leaning against a wall and watching everybody until she left. 

And in between, Hermione would also be looking for Malfoy. She developed a fascination with him, _one that was not a crush_. Hermione was a curious person, and it was curiosity that caused her to stare at him during the ball. 

Their interaction outside the ball had been minimal at first. She had seen him a lot during the months immediately following the end of the war, but they had never talked. After his and his mother’s trials ended, Hermione rarely saw him. She would only see him in Diagon Alley or the lifts of the Ministry, and they would only nod at each other. After a while, they began to say hello, and when Malfoy was transferred into her department at the Ministry a few months prior, they were forced to communicate even more. 

Hermione still thought him infuriating, but she had to admit he was intelligent. They mostly talked about work, but sometimes, Malfoy would bring her a cup of tea if they both were working late and they would argue about something or the other. They never mentioned the war, and he never thanked her for testifying at his trial just like she never thanked him for saving her life. 

There was an understanding between them that if they were to mention the war, their tentative friendship would collapse, so Hermione never asked him why he did what he did, though she wanted to very much. 

Hermione was tired early on into the ball, and just a bit bored. She refused another date after the terrible debacle at the last ball and all her failed dates in the previous year. Her friends were off somewhere else, and Hermione couldn’t stand another conversation with a boring Ministry official. 

There were no empty tables available so Hermione was forced to sit with a couple snogging drunkenly. She circled the rim of her glass, sighing as she did so. Her eyes searched for a tall blond but came up empty. He hadn’t been at work for a week, and now she couldn’t even find him at the ball. Hermione scowled at the snogging couple. They were rubbing in her unhappiness and her single status in her face. 

There was a tap on her shoulder, and Hermione turned around quickly, sure that it was Malfoy. Her face fell in disappointment when she saw that it was only Harry.

“No need to look so disappointed, Hermione,” he said, laughing at her expression. He held out his hand to her and said, “Let’s dance. Stop moping around.”

Hermione scowled playfully, before taking his hand and letting him lead her to the middle of the dance floor. “I wasn’t _moping_ , Harry,” Hermione said. “And if I was, it was only because all my supposed friends left me to sit by myself with a snogging couple.”

Harry had improved in his dancing abilities since the first ball, but he still wasn’t an expert. They danced to the music, Harry doing more than just swaying back and forth, and Hermione grinned. When he twirled her, Hermione laughed, calling attention to them. 

“Harry! You’re dancing!” She was extremely proud of him, and knew it was something he did for Ginny’s happiness. 

“Yes, Hermione, I am.” Harry looked sheepish, but still he laughed alongside her. He managed another spin and grinned at her.

All too soon, the song was over, and Harry released her. He was about to step back, but he saw a tall figure standing behind Hermione.

“Malfoy.” Harry nodded curtly.

Hermione whipped around quickly, eyes wide, to stare at Malfoy, who was looking straight at her. Her heart jumped to her throat, and she froze in shock.

“Potter,” Malfoy replied, still staring at Hermione. “Granger.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione managed to say through a wad of cotton. 

Malfoy held out his hand toward Hermione and asked, “May I have this dance, Granger?” Hermione stared at the slight quivering of his hands, and she realized with a start that Malfoy was nervous. Her heart doubled tenfold. 

She didn’t realize her silence until Harry gently prodded her, asking softly, “Hermione?” 

Her head flew towards his curious look, eyes still wide, and she released a shuddering breath. “It’s all right, Harry.” He nodded, and backed away slowly as Hermione turned back towards Malfoy. “Of course.” She placed her hand in his and smiled.

Malfoy just nodded, moving her back to the middle of the dance floor. He held her closer than Harry did, and she was sure he could hear her pounding heart. The song started, and then they were moving. Malfoy was an amazing dancer; he had been ever since the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

The first few moments were silent, and Hermione felt awkwardness creep upon them. 

“Where have you been?” The words were out of Hermione’s mouth before she could stop them, and she blushed.

Malfoy smirked down at her. “Why, Granger?”

He twirled her more expertly than Harry did before she could answer and then brought her closer still. 

She pretended she wasn’t breathless when she said, “Just curious, Malfoy.”

He grinned down at her, and Hermione’s breath stopped. “Did you miss me, Granger?”

Just like before, he spun her across the dance floor to prevent her from answering. And though people were staring at the absurdity that was Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger dancing, Hermione clutched Malfoy closer, laughing as he continued to twirl and spin and dip her. When that song ended and another began, Malfoy finally let Hermione go, but she was dizzy from all the spinning, or so she told herself, and she had to clutch at him for balance. 

Hermione stared at his lips, hands grasping his suit jacket, and she bit her lips, thinking about what would happen if she stepped up on her toes and kissed him. Malfoy’s grey eyes were penetrating deep into her soul, and Hermione blushed under the intensity. She looked down, and was about to step back, when Malfoy gripped her chin and kissed her. She froze in surprise before she kissed him back. Their lips moved together, and when Malfoy pried her mouth open with his tongue, she moaned. Her hands moved across her chest and over his shoulders before they entangled themselves in his hair. 

The need for air was becoming too much, but Hermione was reluctant to stop kissing him. She forced her way into his mouth, wanting to taste him. Hermione felt him chuckle at her eagerness, and gently pushed her away for air. They were both breathing harshly, staring at each other. 

Hermione grinned, licking her swollen lips. “Yeah, Malfoy, I missed you,” she said gruffly.

He stared at her before kissing her again. Hermione kissed him back just as eagerly. They both were oblivious to the stares of shock and rising whispers surrounding them. 

Across the floor, Harry Potter was grinning. “Oy,” he shouted to the shocked crowd, “there’s nothing to see here!”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so some things need to be said. I wrote this in 2013 back when I was seventeen, which is why Astoria is portrayed as a bimbo, something I regret deeply. She really did not deserve to be treated like that. 
> 
> Another thing is that I remember being so busy with school that I barely finished this fic in time, which is why it's rushed at the end. Originally, I had planned for it to continue for a few more years, where we would have seen their work friendship develop into real friendship and then into something more. I briefly mentioned Draco saving Hermione, which is the whole reason why she was willing to testify at his trial in his defense, and I had this whole backstory about how he saved her during the Battle of Hogwarts, but because I was rushing to finish, I had to scrap it completely, unfortunately. If I had to write it now, I also would have made it more obvious that Hermione (and the rest but this is from her POV so, y'know) was suffering from PTSD and that their grief was still affecting them everyday. 
> 
> All in all, though, I hope you guys enjoyed this story. Even though I didn't get to write everything I originally wanted, I'm still ridiculously proud of this story. Thank you for reading!


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